One In A Million
by fishyfin1
Summary: Based after season 4 finale. Cuddy isn't the one in House's room - Cameron is - like it has always been and should be. Inspired by "One in a Million" by the Backstreet Boys.


**Disclaimer: If I owned it, like all Hameron fans out there, this season would not be happening, and Jennifer Morrison would get A LOT more screen time. **

**A/N: So this is a songfic, inspired by Backstreet Boys' song _One In A Million_. It's set after season four finale, so yeah Amber's dead, and no Cuddy is not in House's room. Pish... I hated how everyone went to see him except the ONE person who stayed by his bedside when he got shot. And this was more fatal. *rolls eyes* I hate when writers can't stick to the characters and storyline's they've created. Don't get me wrong, I love the dialogue and storylines this season... but honestly... Huddy??? Where did that come from? **

**And I should warn you that I'm really tired, so this isn't my best work, but I just felt like writing. **

* * *

_She wakes up with the sun_

Cameron opened her eyes and immediately squeezed them back shut. The blinding sunlight was streaming through the blinds, ensuring there was no possibility for her to go back to sleep.

Glancing at the digital clock by the bedside and reading the red letters display 5:30, she gently removed Chase's arm from her stomach and swung her legs over the side of the bed, not bothering to look at her sleeping partner.

She walked into Chase's bathroom where half of the stuff belonged to her, and stripping down to her naked self she stepped into the shower.

Increasing the heat of the water, she raised her face to the spray sighing softly at the pressure of the water droplets on her face. The soothing massage wakened her a bit more, deceiving her, making her believe she had slept more than the actual four hours. Coffee would aid the delusion she decided as she proceeded to lather up.

_She throws on her clothes_

Wrapped in a towel, she stepped out of the shower, brushed her teeth and applied slight make up to look presentable. There was no point in trying to cover up the bags under her eyes.

Walking back to the bedroom where Chase still lay sleeping, she smiled softly at the way his blond hair caught the sunlight. He _did _have great hair – genetics – she had soon figured out. His shampoo was the ordinary _Head and Shoulders. _Nothing special to owe the great head of hair to.

Cameron quickly and silently dressed, placing a soft kiss on Chase's head, and then shoved her clothes in a bag. She'd go home tonight: no point of waking him up again at one in the morning.

__

Hoping her car will start  
The second time around

She growled in frustration as the engine sputtered to a stop. She took the key out of the ignition and then jammed it back in, for the sole purpose of violence. She said a quick prayer to the God she didn't believe in, and turned the on the engine one more time.

* * *

__

The day has begun  
The line's out the door

"Dr. Cameron," a nurse hurried to her the minute she entered the hospital's doors. "We need you."

Cameron sighed and quickened her pace. She'd have to get to that coffee later.

Depositing her bag in her office, and shredding the light jacket that covered her scrubs, she walked into the ER. 6:30 in the morning and it was already full.

"What happened?" she wearily asked one of the nurses who was carting a tray of supplies.

"Plane crash. Wasn't too bad, everyone survived. They're all here for minor things – but it's still a lot of people."

Snapping on a pair of gloves, she plastered on a smile, afraid if she moved a muscle, it would crack.

_  
Serving up fraps  
Until she can't take anymore_

This reminded her of the day; back when she was still at university, supporting her dying husband and trying to make ends meet.

Working at Starbucks, under the manger from hell, one of the only two employees up opening at 5:30.

A bus had come in, carrying high school students who were on a trip: 150 orders and only two people to take care of them. By the time they had served half of the students, the morning rush was coming in, and of course, not wanting to spend money on employees, they were understaffed – as usual.

It had been too much for her: the manager, the people, the nauseating smell of the franchise.

She quit.

Now looking at the three year old girl on the bed, a deep scratch and bruise on the side of her cheek, she knew quitting was no option.

But she had moved: the smile had cracked.

* * *

She escaped the minute both the hands were on twelve. Grabbing a lunch from the cafeteria, she stole into his room, and took the seat beside his bed.

The blinds were drawn, so at least they had privacy.

Looking at him motionless on the bed, brought back painful memories from the time he had been shot, and as tears prickled her eyes, her smile crumbled away.

* * *

I had woken up last night. The scene before me was all too familiar, and if I'd the energy I'd pinched myself, but I soon realized I wasn't dreaming: her hair was blonde now.

I had laid still, not moving.

Pathetic.

The clock on the wall had told me it was one, and judging by the sounds around me, or lack of, it was not the afternoon.

One in the morning and she had been sitting by my side, keeping watch.

At least I had someone.

Now, twelve in the afternoon, back at her seat, I know, no one must have told her that I'd woken up, or she definitely wouldn't be here. And she hadn't looked at the monitors or my file, or she'd have known.

I watched silently as she laid the salad on the table beside her, and burying her face in her hands, she broke down crying.

I didn't know how much time had passed, because as narcissistic and evil as I was, I had enough of a heart and cared enough for people… for her, to close my eyes and pretend I was still in a coma.

Give her the privacy.

Her sobs tapered off eventually, and wiping her face, she picked up the salad and tossed it into the garbage. I frowned mentally, how was she going to survive if she didn't even eat the little she usually ate?

But I didn't have time to contemplate for I heard her nearing the bed, and forced my state into that of the Coma Guy. I knew how to act.

She ran her fingers through my hair softly, and placing her lips against my forehead, I felt them part as she breathed my name into my skin.

And with that she turned and left.

_I see it in her broken smile  
_

I opened my eyes just in time to see her paste on a smile in the reflection of the glass door.

_Oh, I… wish I could tell her  
You're one in a million  
You're going the distance, babe  
You're gonna work it out someday  
I wish I could tell her  
You're one in a million  
But you never even look my way_

I couldn't believe what had just happened. Okay I could. She liked damage people. She'd been pining for me for ages.

And yet, she never spoke to me unless it was on medical terms. She'd come into the office to talk to Foreman. I knew she and Wilson had lunch every Thursdays. When Amber was alive, she had bitched to me how I was reducing her already short enough time thanks to his other friends.

I didn't know Wilson had other friends. How could I have forgotten Cameron and her readiness to get attached?

So now she shows up in my room when I'm comatose? Or supposed to be?

I couldn't believe what had just happened.

* * *

The L Word was on TV, on mute obviously, when she burst into my room. I'd noticed she'd been my only non- work related visitor since I'd woken up.

"You were awake," she accused, the fatigue and sadness more evident in her features now that we were staring at each other dead on.

"You didn't say anything," she stated, her voice getting higher by each word.

"Why?" she asked, vulnerable.

I just stared.

She tore her eyes away from mine and began to pace the small room.

_No she never looks my way  
She never, never, ever looks my way_

_"_I don't understand," she began. I think she'd forgotten I was in the room.

"Twice I came in here and cried and you just lay there and watched!"

So maybe she remembered where she was.

The tears were openly falling now.

_She ties up her hair  
Her makeup is smeared  
Wiping the tears that she wants no one to see_

"Chase broke up with me. Of course, why wouldn't he? I barely see him, because I'm _here_ looking after you. And then he told me that I'd wasted my time sitting with you while you were awake." She spit out the word, poison on her lips.

"Dammit House!" she punctuated throwing a vase across the room, its broken fragments falling to the floor with the last of her composure.

_She screams on the pain  
I hear every word_

"I stay up for you, for two weeks, I look after you. I watch you medication, I make sure you're okay. I leave the room when they change your bedpan, you clothes, because I know you want the privacy. I don't want to fix you. I don't... I don't... I don't…" she trails off.

"I don't care if I'm pathetic."

She's crying with so much force, it's a miracle I can understand her words.

She calms down enough to utter, "I was so scared. I just wanted you to get better. I was satisfied, happy, with the life I'd created that I didn't need to be around you anymore. I just needed to know – without your knowledge – that you were okay. It gave me some dignity, some reasurrance that you didn't know. And you even took that away from me."

The silence envoloped her, only broken by her hiccups and my shallow breathing. Her prescence was affecting me.

"Dammit, say something."

But I can't.

All those words she'd babbled angrily, hurtfully, they all said one thing: she loved me.

And as I watched her, heard her, felt her, I only realized one thing.

_Why don't you know how beautiful you are _

Someone as beautiful as her, did not deserve the life she was living.

Not the pathetic medical position that didn't do her intelligence justice.

Not those prolonged work hours that didn't do her health justice.

Not that Australian wombat who couldn't give her the love she deserved.

_Just see it in my broken smile  
If I could be the light  
To guide you through the darkness baby  
If I could be the one  
To change the ending to your story  
I'd be one in a million  
I'd be one in a million _

Not me.

"You're pathetic." She spoke into my silence.

Turning around, she walked toward the door, her face hardened.

I finally found my tongue.

_Someday I will tell her  
You're gonna work it out someday_

"Cameron."

* * *

**A/N: It's definitely not my best... but still tell me what you think. And give the song a try. BSB rule:D**

**And now I shall go to sleep...**

**Review!!!**

**fishyfin1**


End file.
